


On My Deathbed

by Remsyk



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Amnesia, Ghosts, Inside jokes, Involving pickle jars, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Potential feels trip, Shinigami, Spirits, Supernatural - Freeform, but in a good way, end of life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 19:05:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10725345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remsyk/pseuds/Remsyk
Summary: During his time as a messenger of Death, he had heard all sorts of final requests. But none have intrigued him quite like the one from his current client. He wasn't prepared for the doors it would open, the questions that would be asked, or the part of himself he never realized was missing.





	On My Deathbed

**Author's Note:**

> This monstrosity of a fic spawned from the following two sentences:
> 
> "Death visits a character's deathbed and asks for one final request. He rarely actually grants them, but this unusual requests strikes a chord with him."
> 
> Damn Tumblr prompts.

He stared up at the tall structure, shielding his eyes against the glare. No matter how often he came here, the beauty of the building never appealed to him. Maybe it was due to his occupation. It was difficult to see it as a house of healing when the only people who left were the dead.

With a sigh, he walked through the familiar doors, dodging weary, shell shocked, and grieving people easily. He sauntered past the front desk, ignoring the seated nurses just as much as they ignored him. He was a regular here, a familiar face, known to anyone and everyone who stepped through the doors.

As he meandered the halls, he let his eyes roam over the various doors, his mind slightly ringing from the pings of various marks, gently pulling on his consciousness. Each tapped at his mind like a distant alarm, enough to tweak his attention without demanding precedence. He knew he had other jobs here; he kept meticulous records. But he was here for one particular job, and he adjusted his route accordingly.

He was damn good at his job. Easily one of the best, if not the best, and had held that title for as long as he could remember. He had his own schedule of jobs to fulfill, but he always made time for special cases, ones that others like him had failed to complete. He was The Closer, the one to call in when a mark became too much to handle, or when the strange twists of human logic demanded the attention of more than the standard number of his coworkers. Despite his experience, it still boggled his mind at times the amount of destruction humans could inflict upon one another.

He stepped into an open elevator, leaning into the back corner with a cursory glance at the buttons. The few other occupants took care of the floor assignments, and he settled in for the short accent, leaning his head against the cool walls. The constant pings swelled and shrank around him as he rose, creating a strange doppler effect in his head. The doors opened for his floor, and he pushed the distant taps to the back of his mind, focusing on the task at hand.

He had been called in for this mark. His associate, another ranking member, had requested his personal touch with obvious reluctance. It was understandably embarrassing to have to ask for help on a mark, doubly so when factoring in the mark's age and his associate's rank. Asking for help was almost expected in the lower ranks, but not at this level.

He stopped outside the mark's door, reviewing the scant bit of information he had been given. This mark was in his 90s, but was still surprisingly spry and aware, and extremely stubborn. His associate had been the third to handle this job, and was the third to throw in the towel. He was intrigued on this fact alone, but what had really reeled him in was the mark's specific request. 

He would only be carried over by someone fitting a very specific description.

Someone of his own description, which partly explained why he was here in the first place. 

He inhaled deeply as his expression shifted to his professional look and pushed the door open, ignoring the doctor and nurse in the room to focus on the man lying in the bed.

He was immediately struck by the amount of life still flowing through the mark, even with the strength of his alarm. The two senses created a dissonance in his head, and he quickly reached out with his mind to silence the conflicting tone, leaving him with the steady sound of life. The man had surprisingly few wrinkles, most likely due largely in part by a lifetime of active living, as well as the lucky jackpot of what looked to be Asian genetics. His hair was thick and snow white, cut short and neat. 

But what really pulled him in were his eyes. They were the eyes of a soul who had seen multiple lifetimes worth of living, and were clear and piercing. They were currently fixed on the doctor as he spoke in hushed tones, no doubt relaying important information concerning his care or something. Not that it would matter much, with him here, but doctors spent their lives fighting against the inevitable.

As he waiting for the extra occupants to leave, he studied his mark closely, his confusion mounting. This mark didn't make sense. If he hadn't had the blaring alarm bouncing around in his head when he entered the room, he wouldn't have given him a second glance. He was incredibly vibrant for someone at the end of their time. Life practically poured from him. And aside from that, he didn't look like someone who would require, himself included, four separate associates to handle. He had completed plenty of jobs with marks that were half his age and twice his bulk. The arrogance of humans never failed to amuse him. So what made this mark different?

He got the chance to find out when the doctor and nurse left, leaving the room quickly without a backward glance. They sailed past him from his place against the wall and pulled the door shut, leaving a heavy silence.

He waited until the mark shifted his gaze to him, his eyes widening slightly against his impassive face before returning to their indifferent state. 

"So they sent another one," He said flatly, his voice stripped of any surprise he felt a moment ago.

He pushed off the wall and walked to the end of the bed slowly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his tight, dark jeans. "Disappointed?"

The mark shook his head once, eyes never leaving his face. "More surprised that they listened."

He snorted slightly at the mark's words, appreciating the sarcasm. His voice was deep and had a slightly scratchy catch, probably from disuse than old age. He hadn't spoken a word when the doctor had been talking to him.

"I hear you were very specific about who would walk you home." He started with a smirk. "You're in luck that your rather pointed request had an actual recipient."

The mark shrugged as much as his reclined position allowed. "I knew you would come."

His face face fell slightly at the words. "You knew I would be the one to come to you in the end?"

"You were always the only one who could kill me."

He frowned fully at his words, allowing his confusion to show blatantly on his face. "What does that mean? You couldn't possibly know I would be here. Clearly you didn't because I'm the fourth one to look at your case."

The old man nodded slowly, conceding his point. "Perhaps, but it looks like no one got the memo about who would handle my case. I'll have to file a complaint with your main office." He said, his face completely serious.

The young man barked a laugh, pleasantly surprised by the humor. 

"You are the shinigami who's going to send me over, right?" The man asked, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I'm done with the run around."

The reaper smirked and tipped his head. "Yup, that's me. Here by special request."

Satisfied, the man nodded and shifted slightly, relaxing into his wall of pillows, his eyes fixed on the shinigami.

"Well then, let's take a look." The reaper raised a hand and gave a careless flick. A black book materialized out of thin air and fell into his waiting palm. He flipped through it briefly until he found the entry he needed. 

He cleared his throat dramatically and began to read. 

"Heero Yuy, 91 years old, unmarried," He tutted as he skimmed the pages. "You have quite an impressive history. A veteran of two wars, time in service with the prestigious Preventers organization, but it looks like you were dishonorably discharged after only a few years." The shinigami raised an eyebrow at his silent audience then continued. "You followed that up with a lifetime of humanitarian ventures, ranging from disaster relief to volunteering at homeless shelters and orphanages all over the world and colonies. You've lived an exciting life."

He closed the book with a snap and dismissed it with another flick of his wrist. "So how did a stud like you end up alone for most of his life?"

The man, Heero, stared at him intently, his cobalt blue eyes boring into the stranger's own.

"I lost the one I loved a long time ago." He finally answered.

"And you never found anyone else?" He asked with disbelief. The man grunted and shrugged slightly. "Tough break."

"What's your name?"

The reaper blinked, surprised by the question. "My name? No one has ever asked before." Most people were too wrapped up in the end of their own lives to worry about a little detail like the name of their reaper. The angry ones didn't care, those in mourning too distraught to ask, and the resigned only wanted to end it quickly.

"Well?" Heero prompted, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"It's Duo."

He expected a frown, but the mark instead gave him a slight smile, one that almost held a hint of fondness. "That's a strange name."

"Yeah, well, you're actually the first one to not laugh at it. My associates seem to think it's terribly funny, for some unfathomable reason." Duo huffed, crossing his arms. His name was a source of endless jeers and comments back home. His fellow shinigami constantly said how fitting his name was for him, given his history. He never understood what they meant, and any attempts he made to ask were dismissed.

Heero nodded slowly. "It suits you."

"What do you mean?" Duo asked with a frown.

The mark just shrugged, causing Duo's anger to flare. He held his composure, only a flicker in his expression giving him away. It wasn't worth getting mad over a comment from a simple soul.

"Anyway, I think we're done stalling. I've got places to be and souls to reap." The shinigami walked around the bed and leaned over the man with a smirk. "Any last requests?"

Heero held his gaze, his expression never shifting. "One, with three parts."

"Oh ho, trying to game the system?" Duo's smirk widened. "No worries, as long as it's not too crazy. Let's hear it."

"I want to be the one to reap the souls of my friends."

Duo's expression froze, only his eyes widening at the outrageous request. This guy was essentially asking permission to kill off his friends. And not only was he asking, he wanted to do it personally. He was used to requests for retribution, for a shinigami to prioritize the death of a rival or someone who had slighted them in life, just because they asked him to. But no one had ever asked to carry out the deed themselves, to essentially become a shinigami for a day. It had never been done before.

"You know what you're asking, right?"

Heero nodded. "Of course; we all agreed. Whoever would meet you first would make the request."

"You're asking me to help you fulfill an old man suicide pact." Duo said flatly.

"We weren't old when we made this decision." Heero answered with a slight frown. 

Duo wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here he was weighing the issue of fulfilling a mark's request against assisted suicides and/or murder, and what was his mark offended about? A jab at his age. He shook his head as he straightened, planting his hands on his hips. "That's easily the wildest thing I've ever heard, and I've heard some pretty crazy requests."

Heero watched him silently as he mulled over the request.

"So you all decided to die together, whether the others were ready or not."

Heero nodded.

"And the pact still holds, even after all this time."

Again, Heero nodded.

Duo sighed and ran a hand through his bangs. "Okay, let's assume for the moment that I agree. How do we do this? Do I take you now and then we grab the others, or did you want to be the last one to go?"

"We die in order."

Duo blinked as he waited for him to elaborate, but he remained silent.

"And that means..." Duo prompted.

"I go first."

"Oh. Well." Duo crossed his arms as he considered his options. He could entertain the request and end his night with his mark and potentially three extra souls. It wouldn't take much to find the others; all he needed were their names and he could track them down. Plus, it could be interesting. He couldn't remember the last time a mark had intrigued him like this one. Despite his cold disposition, Duo felt a strange pull towards the serious man, something just shy of familiar. It was unsettling and it left him grasping for solid ground, for some basis to explain the strange feelings.

"I thought you were busy."

Duo was again stuck by the dry humor of the stoic man. "Yeah, well, you've put me in an interesting position. First and foremost, no one, and I mean no one, has ever asked to become a temporary shinigami. To be honest, I'm not even sure that's even possible."

"If that part of the request is unreasonable, then I will settle for simply being with you while you send them over." Heero stated easily.

"Alright, cool, one problem solved. Two, do you really want to kill your friends? I mean, asking for your mortal enemy or annoying neighbor is one thing, but your friends?"

Heero frowned. "I'm not sure how much more clear I have to be with you." He said, his voice carrying a steely edge.

Duo raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, okay, just making sure, buddy. I'm just covering all the bases."

When his frown relaxed, Duo ventured one last question. "And I assume the three parts means three friends."

"Yes. They'll be ready for us. We've been on alert for some time now." Heero answered, the edge still present, but tempered.

"Alert? You guys sending out secret messages with your evening pudding?" The shinigami jabbed lightly.

Heero's glare intensified again, amusing the shinigami. If looks could kill... "Ease up, old timer. It just sounds like you guys are on the same wavelength."

"Their records would quite similar to my own, with a few minor differences." 

"Naturally," Duo dismissed as he flicked his bangs out of his face.

Satisfied, Heero settled again in the pillows and closed his eyes, breathing deeply for a long moment. Duo was suddenly struck by how frail he looked. Despite all signs to the contrary, this was a man at the end of his life, no matter how hard he raged against it. The thought sucked the breath from his lungs, striking him with all the grace of a wrecking ball. He was overwhelmed with a crushing grief from just thinking about moving on without this strange man. Just as suddenly as it stuck, the feeling passed, like a wave that rolled him in the swell before depositing him on the shore, leaving him disoriented and dazed. Before he could sort his feelings out, he made a snap decision.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Heero moved enough to open his eyes. 

"I'll grant your request."

"Just like that?"

"Hey, don't make me change my mind." He stepped closer to the bed and reached out his hand, palm up. 

Heero glanced between it and the cheeky shinigami with a raised eyebrow. "No scythe?"

Duo's grin widened as he rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic. Someone's been filling your head with nonsense. This way is quick, easy, and painless."

Heero hesitated a moment longer, then grasped the offered hand.

_ Stay with me! You can't leave me now! _

Duo gasped as an image flashed across his mind, seizing his throat as it passed. He stared blankly with wide eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"Problem?" 

He blinked as he shook his head once and focused, slapping on a smile. "Nope."

Duo gently pulled Heero up until he was leaning over his legs, then stepped back to allow him to stand. He crossed his arms and watched the new spirit adjust.

Heero stood carefully, bracing for the aches and pains that normally accompanied his attempts, but found the movement to be pain free. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, unsure of how to proceed. He had spent years researching, hunting for evidence and eyewitness accounts, had spent even longer using his discoveries to convince his friends, and yet here at the end, he wasn't even sure he believed it himself. 

An actual shinigami stood before him, not as a skeleton dressed in a black, hooded robe and wielding a scythe, but as a vibrant young man dressed in tight, dark clothing. All he had to do was turn around and see himself on the bed, where he knew his body lay, and everything he argued for, fought for, and raged against would be validated. He was right. They were wrong.

He internally scoffed at his own hesitation and turned around. He froze at the sight of his old, tired body laying between the covers, relaxed as though he had just fallen asleep. He knew what he looked like, at least to an extent. He had caught glimpses of himself in various reflections, whether the polished surface of the metal doors or a darkened window or computer monitor, but he had never really  _ looked _ at himself. It was startling to see just how much time had worked on his body; he almost didn't recognize himself. Had he always been so fraile? His body looked ready to break, as though it could fall to dust with a single touch. All that was left of him was white hair, an array of wrinkles, and a body twisted by age.

"This is always my favorite part," Duo said quietly, his voice blending with the hushed atmosphere.

Heero turned back to him, secretly relieved for the chance to focus on anything but the picture before him.

"The way one perceives himself is never the same as their physical self." Duo gestured to Heero. "You are a perfect example."

Heero frowned and looked down, and was again shocked by what he found. 

He was young again, his hands whole and strong with no signs of wrinkles or crippling arthritis. He ran a hand through his hair, finding longer locks that flowed between his fingers. He knew if he glanced in the bathroom mirror, he would find dark, chocolate brown hair in place of washed out white. With his other hand, he touched his face, tapping against firm skin. A cursory glance showed he was dressed in jeans and a green muscle shirt with a jacket hanging open. He could feel the strength in his limbs and core, could almost feel the blood pumping through his veins with the vibrancy of youth. 

"That time must have really stuck with you," Duo broke the silence as he watched the shocked man with a mix of amusement and wistfulness.

Heero flexed his hands steadily as he recalled a time when this outfit was standard wear. How many years had it been? "It was the best time of my life," He finally said, though even as he spoke, the words felt inadequate. 

The shinigami nodded slowly, sensing his mark's reluctance to move forward. Part of what made Duo so good at his job was his ability to read people, and to empathize with their position. Most shinigami finished a job as quickly as possible, indifferent to the feelings of their mark. What did they care if their charge wasn't ready? Couldn't they understand it was time to go? But Duo understood their emotions, their need to squeeze every last second possible, to cling desperately to life. They needed to take that extra moment to make sure a loved one knew the full depth of their feelings, of their grief and regret. It was his empathy that got him where he was, not the number of souls reaped or their individual value. 

He saw the moment Heero was ready. It was in the way his pulled himself up, straightening his back as he relaxed his shoulders. His arms fell to his side, and he raised his head slowly, locking eyes with the waiting shinigami.

Duo smiled softly. "Time to go."

Heero nodded and took a step, but stopped when a thought struck him. "How do we get there?"

Duo shifted his weight and tipped his head. "Um, in my Mustang?"

He glared at the flippant response. "It will take hours to get to Brussels."

"Not a problem," Duo said dismissively as he turned and left the room. Heero huffed in annoyance and followed.

The shinigami never spoke as they navigated the busy halls. Every now and then he would tip his head as though listening, but he never slowed his pace. Heero trailed just behind him, noting how patients and faculty unconsciously shifted out of his path, as if some instinct told them to shy away. Did they somehow know that Death walked their halls? Did they suspect the unassuming young man to be more than he looked, hinted at only through his dark clothing and mysterious nature. He kept his observations to himself and followed the young man outside.

Duo heaved a sigh and stretched. "Finally! That place is so depressing." He pulled a set of aviators from his jacket pocket and set them on his nose with a casual flick. "Your chariot awaits."

Heero rolled his eyes, causing the shinigami to smirk. He led the spirit into the parking lot, stopping with flourish. Heero paused as he looked over his 'chariot'. True to his word, it was a pale, pearly grey Pre-Colony Ford Mustang Shelby GT500*. He raised an eyebrow at the grinning man.

"What? Did you think I meant a horse?"

"This isn't much better." Heero replied flatly.

"Oh ye of so little faith," Duo lightly punched him in the shoulder as he passed, and slid in the driver's seat.

Once Heero had settled in the passenger's seat, Duo turned to him with a grin, his eyes hidden behind his shades. "So, what's your first victim's name?"

"Trowa Barton," The ghost replied simply, ignoring the jab.

Duo nodded and turned the car on, shifting easily as he navigated to the open road. "This will only take a moment. If you need to pee, you can whiz when we get there."

Heero turned to glare at him, but froze when he noticed the scenery rushing past the windows, so quickly it was only a blur.

"Wha-"

Just as he opened his mouth to ask, the blurs slowed to individual trees, each slipping sedately past the car as Duo drove down the road. He turned into a nearly vacant, battered parking lot, dodging the worst of the potholes, and pulled into a front row spot.

"We're here!" Duo parked and hopped out of the car, leaving a bewildered Heero behind. He slowly got out of the car, surveying his surroundings with awe. They had just left Sanq, not even five minutes earlier, and now they were in Brussels? It was impossible.

"You're thinking too hard." Duo leaned his hip against the hood of the car, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Heero with clear amusement. "The rules of the living don't apply to us."

Heero followed the shinigami blindly, focusing instead on the scattered bits of information he had gleaned since 'passing over'. He was now a ghost, invisible to the living, and was now globetrotting with Death himself in a classic car on his way to collect the souls of his remaining friends. If he hadn't been living it, per se, he would have checked himself into the mental ward.

He nearly bumped into Duo when he stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk.

The pair stood outside the building, taking in the squat, dirty brick structure. 

Duo shuddered dramatically. "Ugh, and I thought your building was bad."

Heero grunted in response.

Duo suddenly barked a laugh, surprise coloring his features. "I don't know why, but that was oddly nostalgic. I guess you're growing on me." He cocked his head at the spirit with a grin.

Heero snorted and shook his head, a slight smile on his face.

"Well, let's go get your buddy." 

The shinigami made his way to the front, stowing his sunglasses as he stepped into the shadow of the building. Once inside, he bypassed the front desk and strolled through the doors. Heero hesitated as he glanced at the nurse on duty, but she never looked up from her work. He quickly followed Duo down the hall, slipping between the doors.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

The young man waved a hand over his shoulder and kept walking, forcing Heero to speed up to keep pace. The shinigami traversed the halls steadily until he paused in front of a random door.

"We're here."

Heero glanced around, searching for any signs or clues about the occupant. There was nothing to indicate this room was any different from the others.

"Go ahead. I'll be right behind you, unless he bites." Duo smirked at the spirit. "Then you're on your own."

Heero grunted and pushed open the door. He glanced around the darkened room until his eyes adjusted to the gloom, revealing a bed shoved to the far end. He approached it slowly, studying its occupant as he drew close.

He almost didn't recognize him, with his gaunt features and wispy white hair, but when he stopped at the bed's edge, he knew him. Here lay Trowa Barton, unaware that Death had come to claim him.

"You might as well wake him. A bit of lost sleep won't kill him."

Heero spared a glare at the cheeky shinigami, then returned his attention to the sleeping man.

"Can I even touch him?" This spirit business was all new to him. He had been able to push open the door, but people obviously couldn't see him. Perhaps he could only interact with inanimate objects, like what seemed to happen in every ghost show or movie.

"Sure, you can touch what you want."

Heero tentatively reached for the thin shoulder and jostled the man gently. Trowa felt thin and bony beneath his touch, so different from the muscular figure of his youth.

The man came awake slowly, squinting as he searched for the source of the disruption. He finally focused on Heero, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"They upped my dosage again," He said in a shaky voice.

Heero smiled and shook his head. "No, not this time."

Trowa shifted enough to lean toward the spirit, his eyes clearing as he studied the silent ghost. "Is that really you?"

"Anyone who sees me has a date with his maker." Heero answered quietly.

The weathered man laughed and relaxed into his bed, a smile on his face. "I can't believe it."

"If you think that's hard to believe, wait until you see the rest." Heero gestured to the silent shinigami, beckoning him forward.

Duo crossed the room silently, watching his new mark carefully, his black book clutched in his hand. Trowa gasped when he stopped at the end of the bed, his eyes even wider than before.

"You were right."

Heero snorted. "It only took you fifty years to admit it."

"Forty nine and change," Trowa corrected easily.

"It seems it's worth following through with your request," Duo spoke up, glancing at the ghost. He then returned to the old man. "You just so happen to be on my list."

"I assume I should be honored." Trowa wheezed.

"The only people who make it to my list are the stubborn fools who refuse to accept their fate. And since you've cheated death more often than most, you've earned a spot near the top, so yeah, if you like to think of yourself as a fool, it's an honor." 

Trowa chuckled dryly, then began to cough as he fought to catch his breath. Once he calmed, he sighed and sank into his pillows. "One too many close calls under the big top."

"We told you to stop the knife act when Cathy's eyes started to go." Heero chided with a fond grin.

"But it made it more exciting," The old man closed his eyes with a mischievous smile. 

Duo opened his book to a marked page and began reading, just as he had with Heero. "Trowa Barton, age 91, unmarried, but definitely not single. I guess you checked the 'It's Complicated' box. Served in two wars, also worked in Preventers, but it looks like you shifted to independent consultant around the same time your buddy left. Must have been some party." Duo shook his head and flipped the page. "Between independent consulting, protection detail for one Quatre Winner, and a constant show with a traveling circus, it's a wonder you had time to breathe." Duo snapped his book shut and dismissed it with another flick. "Plenty of opportunities to cheat death, as well."

Trowa met his eyes easily, a slight smile on his face. "My arrogance and occasional stupidity weren't valid excuses for breaking our pact."

Duo tipped his head. "I'm actually impressed, and more than a little surprised, that you fought so hard to keep it. It's rare to see that sort of devotion."

The old man shrugged stiffly. "I gave my word."

"And now it's time to collect." Duo waited until Trowa met his eyes again. "It's time to go."

Trowa nodded once. He watched as the shinigami came around the bed, standing next to Heero near his head.

"Duo-"

The young man stopped and glanced at Heero.

"Is it possible, that I could..." He trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably. 

"Sure, I was just going to prep him for you. All you need to do is pull, same way I did for you."

Heero nodded and watched Duo turn back to Trowa. The shinigami reached out and tapped a finger gently on his forehead.

_ His ears were ringing, drowning out everything else except the sound of his heartbeat, pounding slowly in his chest. He took a breath and lifted his head, squinting as the world shifted strangely while he watched.  _

_ Another heartbeat, everything was blanketed in a thick haze, drifting like fog, but it was the wrong time of day. He could see people stumbling through the cloud, their figures moving at random.  _

_ Another heartbeat, his throat suddenly burned, and he hacked and wheezed as he tried to catch his breath, but each inhale renewed his fit until he realized the cause.  _

_ It wasn't fog, it was smoke. _

Duo quickly hid his reaction, blindsided as he was. That was now two visions with two marks, and he knew better than to blame coincidence. Before they could note his unease, he stepped back to give Heero room, clenching his shaking fists to his side.

"That's it?" 

"I loosened him up for ya." He answered easily.

"Am I the lid on a pickle jar?" Trowa deadpanned. Duo chuckled and Heero smiled fondly at him.

"Let's go." The ghost reached out his hand for the man. Trowa grasped it firmly, his eyes never leaving Heero. He then pulled him steadily until Trowa was leaning up on the bed, then stepped back as Duo had to allow the new ghost to stand.

Trowa rose and immediately flexed his hands, staring in wonder at his unburdened visage. He was dressed in tight jeans and a forest green turtleneck that clung to his muscular frame. He quickly brought a hand to his hair, running his fingers through his long brown bangs that hung over his face. 

"I hated when my hair started falling out."

Heero smirked and crossed his arms. "I kept all my hair."

Trowa quirked a pout but his expression quickly fell back to awe. "Nothing hurts."

The first spirit nodded in understanding. "It takes some time to adjust. I still expect something to complain."

The tall man nodded and paused, indecision furrowing his brows.

"You'll feel better knowing what you left behind if you look." Duo spoke up softly, sensing his hesitance. "Consider it closure."

Decision made, Trowa turned and faced himself. As with Heero before him, he froze at the sight on his shriveled body, shocked by the damage of time. He was nothing but skin and bones, leaving a husk of his former self. His body looked small and frail, almost lost within the surrounding pillows and blankets. 

"It's hard to believe you lived in that body," Heero said as he studied the remains as well. "How could we tolerate living like that?"

Trowa shook his head slowly and turned away, inhaling deeply to steady his raging emotions. Joy from seeing his old friend mixed with shock at the sight of his body, while fear and excitement warred for control. There was also a touch of sadness, slight enough to ignore, yet strong enough to remain. He was curious about the shinigami, and was delightfully surprised that his stubborn friend had been right all along. 

He selfishly took one more moment for himself, then straightened his shoulders and met Heero's eyes.

"Let's go."

Heero nodded and turned to the waiting reaper, where he was leaning against the wall near the exit.

"On to the next victim." He pushed himself off the wall and disappeared through the door, leaving the two ghosts to catch up.

Duo traversed the halls in silence, his hands shoved into the pockets of his biker jacket. He was confused and unsettled, and both left him frustrated. He heard the other two fall in step behind him, talking softly between themselves, but he ignored them in favor of dissecting his problem.

He could understand and empathize with his marks, comprehend their fears and hopes, had even spent hours listening to them vent their regrets, but he had never been hit with visions.

Maybe he was catching snippets of his mark's memories. It wasn't unheard of for a shinigami to view glimpses of a soul's life when taking them over, but it had never happened to him before. Perhaps the answer lay in the strange connection he felt to the first spirit, the lingering hint of deja vu that nagged him more than anything. There had been cases before of shinigami finding a familiar bond with a mark, but more often than not, it was due to them reaping their souls in a previous life, creating a connection between them. But he had also seen a case, not long after he started, of an older shinigami who had fallen in love with her mark. She had willingly given up her status and moved on to be with him. Was he falling for Heero? Was this what love felt like? A nagging sense of familiarity?  

But that wouldn't explain the second vision with Trowa. It had to be because of that stupid pact they made. They must have sealed it with blood or some crazy commando shit. It sounded like something they would do, which didn't bode well for the remaining two stops. Duo heaved a resigned sigh. He may as well accept the possibility of more visions in the future. He just hoped they were mild in comparison.

He stepped outside and flicked on his sunglasses. He walked up to his car and leaned against the driver door, waiting for his collected souls to catch up.

He didn't have to wait long.

As Heero moved to the passenger side, Trowa caught sight of the sleek, pale car. He immediately stopped and laughed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over.

Duo watched with a grin while Heero rolled his eyes.

“You have the weirdest sense of humor, Barton.”

Trowa wiped his eyes and moved around Heero to the back, suppressing a few errant chuckles. “I really shouldn't be surprised. But while we’re on the subject,” He turned to Duo as Heero opened his door. “Aren't you a little young to be a reaper?”

Duo’s grin turned to a frown, perturbed by the question. “Don't confuse my appearance for youth.”

Trowa shrugged. “Apologizes. I just assumed all shinigami were old and withered or skeletons in black robes. That must be upper management.”

Duo paused as he stepped into the car, studying the ghost over the roof. “You and Heero been comparing notes?”

“I wasn't expecting to be taken over by someone who looks young enough to be my great-grandson.”

“I can pass you over to someone who fits your preference,” Duo answered with a sharp grin.

“We made a deal,” Heero interjected quickly.

Duo shrugged and slid into the car, ending the conversation. He waited until everyone settled before asking. “Who's next on the list?”

“Quatre Winner.” Heero replied quickly.

The shinigami glanced in the rear view mirror, peering over his glasses to focus on Trowa. “As in your former lover?”

“There’s no point,” Trowa said, shaking his head. “Quatre’s dead.”

“No, he's not.” Heero replied firmly, glancing in the mirror as well.

The newest ghost frowned deeply and glared at the back of Heero's seat. “He died a long time ago. I should know.”

“But you don't, and he's alive.” Heero interrupted easily, twisting to return the glare. “Just because he hasn't sent you any messages doesn't mean he's dead.”

“He wouldn't just drop off the face of the earth like that!” Trowa practically growled, leaning forward in his seat.

“Children,” Duo chided as he turned on the car. “Quatre Winner is alive, but don't worry, you'll both be right before this day is done.” He pulled out of the parking lot and drove, leaving the occupants to brood.

The green blurs quickly melted into open sky and endless yellow. Trowa’s eyes widened as he watched the outside world race by. As he opened his mouth to comment, he caught Heero’s eye in the rear view mirror. The amused spirit shook his head slightly, and Trowa leaned back in his seat with a shrug. Just another quirk of the afterlife to accept. 

The temperature in the car steadily rose, but the new ghosts were pleasantly surprised to find it didn't bother them. The car began to slow until they were gliding through the busy streets of a desert town. People milled around them constantly, yet a path opened for them without prompting. Duo eventually pulled into a side street, following the road as it traveled underneath a building. He pulled into a sleek, well lit, and very clearly, private parking garage.

Heero glanced at the shinigami as he pulled up to the imposing gates, flanked by well armed, stone face men in suits. “How do we get in?”

“Easily,” Duo replied. He drove steadily towards the gates with no signs of stopping. Heero and Trowa braced for impact, but nothing happened. They drove straight through the gates as if they didn't exist. Duo openly smirked at their reactions, and pulled into an open space near the elevators. He turned off the car and leaned back in his seat, waiting for the questions.

“You could have given us some warning,” Heero ground out, his glare returning in full force.

“I told you already, you can touch what you want,” Duo removed and stowed his aviators. “It works both ways. You can pass through anything if you want, and I wanted to, so I did.”

He got out of the car and stretched as the pair followed suit. He led them to the elevators and after pressing the button, swayed slowly in place, hands in his jacket pockets.

“Trouble sitting still?” Trowa teased, watching with a grin.

Duo shrugged, his eyes fixed on the doors. “I don't like waiting.” Right as he spoke, the elevator dinged, announcing the car’s arrival. The group filed in, and Duo closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on his mark's particular wavelength, then selected the floor they needed.

The group ascended in silence, and the new ghosts obediently filed out after the shinigami, following closely as he navigated the halls with ease. He eventually stopped before a set of wide double doors, and turned to them as he nodded to the imposing entrance.

“Your victim awaits.”

Heero ignored him and entered. Duo raised an eyebrow at Trowa, waiting for the taller man to move. With obvious reluctance, Trowa followed suit.

They filed into the spacious room silently, taking a moment to study their new mark. He was asleep, his shape dwarfed by the enormous bed, his face turned to the door. His thin grey hair was neatly combed, and he lightly grasped the heavy blanket with twisted hands. When the door closed behind Duo, he jolted awake, glancing around the room with milky eyes. 

"Who's there? Identify yourself." He demanded in a wispy voice.

  
"Stand down, 04."

  
They watched as the man stiffened against his pillows, his unseeing eyes wide.

  
"Heero?"

  
The ghost walked to the bed, coming to stand at his side. "How are you, Quatre?" As he spoke, he grasped the man's hand. 

  
Quatre’s eyes filled with tears and he squeezed back firmly. "I can't believe you're here. You don't sound a day over twenty."

  
Heero smiled fondly at him. "It's been too long.”

Duo sidled up to Trowa, following his line of sight to the crippled man. “You look like a lover scorned.”

The taller man shook his head, his expression tight with pain. “I thought he was dead. The only reason he wouldn't contact me was if he were dead.” He shook his head and ran a hand across his face. “I was so angry with him. I spent years in that hell hole, just waiting to die, holding on until our pact could be fulfilled, and he had to go and cop out early. I thought we meant more to him than that.” 

“But he's alive, and he's been waiting too,” Duo pointed out quietly. “Perhaps he thought the same of you.” When Trowa didn't move, Duo shoved him with his shoulder. “You can't hold onto grudges forever. This is your chance to set the record straight and put your grievances to rest. Use this time wisely.”

Trowa sighed deeply and nodded, leaving the shinigami behind to approach the bed. He came to stand next to Heero, suddenly hesitant to draw attention to himself. He was grateful for his spiritual form, hiding him fully from his former lover.

Heero raised an eyebrow at him and nodded toward Quatre, adding his own silent nudge. Trowa opened his mouth to speak, but he blanked, unsure of how to bridge the chasm years in the making. 

He jumped when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, but he froze at the understanding rolling from Heero. Trowa felt his heart clench as he realized what he had been given. Here was a chance to make things right, to be with the one he loved, to say everything that needed to be said. It was more than Heero ever got. He felt his cheeks color with shame, and he lowered his eyes as he nodded.

Heero squeezed his shoulder then left, giving them some privacy to speak. He stood beside the shinigami, noting the wistful smile on his face, his arms wrapped around himself.

“What's wrong?”

Duo shook his head slowly, absently plucking his book from thin air as he shifted. “There's just something about the love between humans that seems, almost sad to me.” He avoided Heero's piercing gaze by flipping through the pages to Quatre’s entry. 

“What makes it sad?”

Duo stared at the page blindly, picking his words carefully. “Maybe not sad, but more, bittersweet. Humans have the capacity to love so deeply, it seems almost cruel to take one without the other.”

He looked up at Heero, suddenly noting how close the man was to him. He froze, losing himself in the deep blue of the ghost’s eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper, reluctant to break the spell. “I wonder what took your love from you.”

Heero reached up slowly and tucked a strand of long hair behind the reaper’s ear, trailing his fingers down his cheek lightly. Duo's breath hitched at the gentle touch, and he leaned slightly against the fleeting fingertips.

“Duo?”

The reaper jumped back, clutching his book to his chest. He looked wildly at Trowa, noting the knowing look the tall ghost was tossing his way. “What?” He snapped.

Trowa gestured to the only living being in the room. “May I have assistance with my pickle jar?”

Quatre let out a wispy laugh while Duo rolled his eyes and approached. He spared one last glance at Heero as he passed. The stoic ghost was watching him closely, showing no signs of embarrassment or regret for his actions.

He drew even with Trowa and turned his attention to his mark. 

“Quatre Winner, I presume.”

The man gasped, his unseeing eyes widening. “I can't believe it.”

Trowa smiled fondly as he squeezed the hand in his grip. “I told you, love.”

Duo ignored their mushy smiles and tapped his book against his open palm. “Would you like me to read you your life, or are you in a hurry?”

Quatre snorted and shook his head. “I lived it, I should hope I remember it.”

Duo shrugged and dismissed his book with a wave. “That's just fine with me, though I am increasingly curious about what happened at Preventers that affected all of you. It must have been pretty awful for a pacifist and philanthropist such as yourself to pull all funding and support.”

The old man grimaced and looked away. “I even wrote it into my will.”

Duo whistled softly, impressed by the mark’s dedication to his grudge. “And now it's time to put it into effect.”

He waited until Quatre turned back to him, watching with sightless eyes. “Time to go.”

Duo leaned past Trowa, stretching to tap a finger against Quatre’s forehead, secretly bracing for impact.

_ There was too much blood, but whether it was his own or someone else's, he couldn't say. Too much was numb, and even more wouldn't move. He could only lay amongst the rubble and pray that someone found him, but even as the cries and movement grew around him, his hope of being found slipped away. _

_   
_ _ He closed his eyes and listened to the screams of the frightened, the moans of the wounded, and the cries of the grieving. Would someone mourn for him like they did? He hoped so. He had tried to do well by others, despite what had happened to him. He had seen the worst of people; that didn't mean he had to carry that jaded mantle as well.  _

_   
_ _ The echoing melodies of destruction began to grow quiet, or maybe he was starting to fade. It was hard to tell over the sound of his slowly beating heart. He focused on the thumping, morbidly curious about how steady the rhythm was, despite the chaos around him.  _

_ Maybe he was numb to it inside and out. He had grown so used to chaos, to the rush of adrenaline, that something like this didn't even phase him, even with him laying in his broken state. _

_ He sighed as he thought of everything he hadn't done, of all the places he wanted to go, but most of all, all the things he wanted to say, and who he wanted to say them to. _

Duo reeled back with a gasp, reaching for something solid to grab onto. He latched onto Trowa’s arm, holding it firmly as he fought to catch his breath.

The tall ghost frowned with concern at the rattled shinigami. “Duo? Are you okay?”

The reaper nodded and stepped away, pointedly ignoring the other ghost in the room. “I'm fine, just… I'm getting tired. I'll be waiting outside.”

Duo left the room wrapped in his own thoughts. The visions were getting stronger, and at this rate, the next one would knock him off his feet. If they were just regular visions, he wouldn't even think twice about them, but the force of the emotions coupled with the images left him breathless. 

Was it possible he was experiencing some moment from their lives that was so distinctive, so life changing, that they clung to it until their dying moment? It may explain the sheer depth of the emotions he felt, but it didn't explain why the visions grew longer and more immersive with each collected soul.

The first vision had been a blink, nothing more than a fleeting moment, but the desperation within those few words had been so powerful, his chest had almost physically hurt. The blow had knocked the breath from him, and left him reeling in shock. He hadn't felt such powerful emotions before, and certainly not with such overwhelming force. 

Whatever had happened to Heero to imprint that moment must have been catastrophic.

Trowa’s vision had almost been… empty, in contrast to the wrecking ball with Heero. It had been like watching a movie during a fight scene, but someone had muted the sound, leaving the action up for interpretation. It created a sense of floating through chaos, of standing in the middle of a stage performance without actually participating. The startling contrast left him feeling incomplete with a yearning desire to fill in the blanks.

But this one… The resignation, the acceptance that permeated the vision had almost broken him. He was not someone who could just roll over and accept his fate. Duo had always raged against the things he believed weren't right, and had forged his own path as a result. Had that been Quatre? He didn't seem like the type to roll over and accept his fate, but in the vision, he had clearly given up. He was going to die in that pile of rubble, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Duo rubbed his chest absently, trying to restore some warmth that had fled when the icy touch of fear had gripped him. What could bring someone to that point, where it wasn't worth the fight to live? What would he do in that situation? He thought he would fight for every moment allowed, but the vision left him uncertain.

He mentally shook his head and focused on the task at hand. He had three out of four souls. One more stop, and he could turn them over and forget all about the reeling visions and roller coaster of emotions.

The door opened, revealing the pair and the newly awakened ghost. Duo studied his new soul, noting he was another who thought of himself as a young man.

His hair was golden blond, framing a young, boyish face with wide, aquamarine eyes. He was dressed more formally than his peers, sporting a vest over his pastel button down shirt and pressed khakis. He stood close to the tall ghost, any grievances and misunderstandings clearly aired and corrected.

“Three down, one to go.” Duo quipped, forcing himself to keep his voice light after his emotional upheaval.

Quatre smiled and nodded. “I'm ready to go.”

The shinigami turned and left, again avoiding the watchful eyes of the stoic ghost as he reached the limit of his acting skills.

Duo led the procession down the hall when he suddenly froze, his head ringing in a way he couldn't ignore. The others stopped and watched as he turned slowly to face the door to his right, his face like stone.

  
Quatre gasped and stepped forward. “No…”

  
The shinigami ignored him and approached the door, his footsteps silent against the wooden floors of the hall.

  
“Duo, stop! Don't you dare touch her!” Quatre followed him frantically, reaching for the man as he stepped through the door. The remaining pair trailed behind them, curious as to what had caught the reaper’s attention and cause Quatre so much distress.

  
Duo crossed the room to the bed where a small girl sat, watching him with wide, curious eyes. Quatre ran to stop him, but Duo snapped a hand at him without turning. The blonde slammed to a halt, held in place by an invisible force.

“Quatre!” Trowa ran to his side, but he couldn't find the source of the obstruction.

While Trowa helped Quatre, Heero trailed after Duo, ready to stop him on the new ghost’s behalf. A quick warning look from Duo stopped him in his tracks, leaving him to watch with the others. Quatre scowled and pressed against his prison, but he could only watch and wait. 

  
“Miss Lena, what are you doing up?” Duo asked in a pleasant voice, a gentle smile on his face.

  
She tipped her head to the side. “I don't know. I fell asleep just a moment ago, but now I'm awake again.”

  
Duo clicked his tongue and sat down on the bed, drawing their attention to the second girl. Quatre gasped, realization leaving him cold. It wasn't another girl. Duo was speaking to her ghost.

  
“Do you feel better?” The shinigami asked.

  
Lena nodded vigorously. "Yes! Nothing hurts! It's amazing."

  
His smile turned sad as he grasped her hands. “I'm glad to hear that, but there's a small problem.”

  
“A problem?”

  
“Yes, you see, you're not supposed to be awake right now. You should be resting and getting better.”

  
“I was!” She answered with indignation. “I didn't expect to wake up again so soon.”

  
“You're going to have to go to sleep again.” He coaxed gently.

  
She looked down at their joined hands. “Do I have to? It even hurts in my sleep. This is the first time I haven't felt pain.”

  
Duo nodded slowly. “We're not ready for you yet, and it would make your Uncle Quatre very upset if you left already.”

  
She frowned and leaned forward, looking at him earnestly. “I don't want to make Uncle Qat sad!” She then leaned back and hunched over, drawing into herself. “But I don't want to feel like that anymore.”

  
“Let me tell you a secret,” Duo raised a finger to his lips, a grin blooming as he spoke. “Come here.”

  
She leaned her ear toward him eagerly, bright curiosity lighting up her face. Duo met her halfway, covering his lips with his hand, blocking the others from hearing what he told her. They watched as her face lit up, and she leaned back with a happy bounce to face him again.

  
“Really?!”

  
“Really, really,” he answered with a matching smile. 

  
“You promise?”

  
He laid a hand over his heart, his expression suddenly serious. “I promise, you have my word.”

  
“Okay. I'll go back to sleep.” She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around the young man for a quick hug, then laid down, her ghost overlapping with the still body. The two images clashed slightly as she shifted, until she finally settled, aligning her soul with her body, and closed her eyes.

  
Duo bent over her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then stood and walked away, his expression somber. He tapped Quatre on the shoulder as he passed, releasing the man from his hold, then left the room without a word.

The others quickly followed him, catching up as he waited for the elevator to arrive.

“Duo-"

“Not here,” He answered, cutting off Quatre’s question. He ignored them as they entered the elevator car and descended, the air heavy with unspoken tension.

The group left the car and approached the car. Duo crossed his arms on the roof of the car and waited for the next round of questions.

“What did you do?” Quatre demanded immediately, glaring from across the car. Trowa stood next to him, a hand resting lightly on his shoulder, though whether it was for support or to keep him calm, Duo couldn't say.

“I didn't do anything.”

“You must have done something, because she was just fine before you arrived!”

Duo tensed at the accusation, brows drawn into a frown. “Then you've either been lied to this entire time or chosen to remain blissfully unaware of your grandniece’s condition.”

Quatre inhaled sharply as he straightened fully. “What are you talking about? Are you implying I didn't know what was going on in my own house?”

“I'm implying that someone has been lying to you about her illness,” Duo said, staring the angry blond down. “Lena Wintaro, grandniece of one Quatre Winner, has been suffering from a rare illness that has left her bedridden and on the verge of death.”

Quatre stilled, his mouth dropping open as his breath left him all at once. Trowa’s grip on his shoulder tightened, his expression shifting to concern.

“You're lying…” Quatre said breathlessly.

The shinigami’s eyes narrowed, gleaming dangerously at the ghost. “I never tell a lie,” He articulated slowly, a warning rolling through the words.

A shiver rolled down the new ghost’s spine as he shook his head slowly in disbelief. “They never told me. All this time she's been sick, and I never knew.”

“Perhaps they wanted to spare you from worrying,” Trowa said gently. “There's nothing you could have done for her.”

“Why did you stop?” Heero spoke up suddenly. “Why did you visit her?”

“Because she died,” Duo answered simply.

Quatre gasped, reaching for Trowa instinctively.

Heero frowned in confusion. “But you left her there.”

Duo sighed heavily and raked his fingers through his bangs. “It wasn't her time to go. My presence sort of… Hastened things along.”

“But you said you didn't do anything,” Quatre demanded. “So what really happened?”

“I didn't actively go and collect her soul, like I've done with you. Sometimes just being near a shinigami is enough, especially for those who are hovering on the edge.”

When Quatre continued to glare at him over the car, Duo sighed and began to explain.

“Look, the living can sense the presence of shinigami within a very limited range, roughly arm’s length. It's an unconscious instinct that normally manifests as an uneasy feeling or a cold chill. That's why you see humans move out of my way, because their instincts are telling them to move. It's also where the expression ‘brush with Death’ came from.”

“Alright, that clears up some things, but doesn't explain what happened,” Trowa said.

“I'm getting to that,” Duo shushed him and continued. 

“There are some humans who are more acutely aware of our presence, usually as psychics, but it can also mean they can sense a shinigami at a much farther distance. But that sensitivity comes at a price, and they're also more susceptible to the effects of our aura. We use it to weaken the soul's connection to its body.”

  
“So what happened to Lena?” Quatre asked.

  
“She was able to sense me from much further than a normal person. Combined with her extreme illness, her soul separated from my aura alone.”

  
Quatre’s hold on Trowa tightened as the extent of her illness became clear. To think that she could have died at any moment, without him even realizing... “But you saved her.”

  
Duo nodded, his eyes distant. “Any other shinigami would have taken her. Hell, I could have taken her. Her grip on life was so fragile it wouldn't have mattered if it were me or someone else who came by. But it's my one flaw. I can't take a child. If I can give a child a second chance, I will.”

Silence descended on the group as the depth of his actions sank in. A fragile life could have ended too soon had it not been for the actions of this shinigami. 

“Thank you,” Quatre held the surprised shinigami’s gaze as he spoke. “Your kindness saved her life.”

Duo shrugged self consciously and adjusted his jacket. “Like I said, it's my  _ one _ flaw,” He joked with a lopsided grin, breaking the heavy atmosphere. He slid into the car, ready to grab the last soul and finish his crazy day. He waited for his passengers to settle one last time before posing his question.

“So, our last and final stop is going to be…” Duo tapped out a drum roll on the steering wheel, watching Heero eagerly.

“Wufei Chang.”

Duo paused in mid air, his eyes wide. “As in the pacifist?”

Heero arched a brow at him, his question clear.  _ Problem? _

Duo slumped in his seat, sighing dramatically as he slipped on his shades. “I really shouldn't be surprised. I mean, we’ve covered almost every other prominent member of society. Why not a famous pacifist too?”

“Is something wrong?” Quatre leaned forward, practically bleeding concern.

Duo waved a hand over his shoulder. “No, he's just not someone I ever imagined I'd have to pick up.”

“Why is that? His religion?”

Duo snorted and shook his head. “Religion has nothing to do with it, at least not in the sense you're thinking. If anything, his allows him to embrace death.” Duo quirked a sharp grin at the blond ghost in the mirror. “I only deal with the stubborn ones, or pickle jars, as Trowa prefers.”

“I'm putting a copyright on that term as soon as we hit your office.” Trowa added casually, prompting a chuckle from the shinigami.

“Yeah, yeah, it's all yours.” He threw the car into gear and navigated out of the parking garage, taking a moment to chuckle at Quatre’s reaction as they passed through the gate.

“Not funny, guys.” He had grumbled.

Once clear of the building, Duo once again sped through the landscape, crossing hundreds of miles in a moment. The scene shifted from endless golden dunes to deep greens and soaring rock formations.**

“Hm, please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle. This will only take a moment.” Duo announced, shifting gears smoothly.

The car lurched, and with it the view outside their windows. Instead of looking up at the narrow peaks, they were suddenly level with them. Duo shifted again, resuming his drive around the winding road until he pulled up to a large, ancient monastery. The building blended into the surrounding landscape, giving the impression it had been carved from the mountain.

Duo pulled up to the main entrance and parked. He exited and stretched with a groan. He turned slowly in place, taking in the breathtaking view as the others joined him.

“I always wanted to come here,” He said with a soft smile. “I've never had a reason before.”

“It's beautiful,” Quatre agreed. “Perfectly fitting for Wufei.”

Duo clapped a hand on the blond’s shoulder then made his way to the front. “Let’s not keep our guest waiting.”

He navigated the halls easily, ignoring the milling students and soaring architecture while the others glanced around constantly.

The reaper led them to a room at the end of a long hall. “Last stop before our final destination,” He tipped his head to the closed door. “After you.”

Heero, Quatre, and Trowa filled into the room

and froze. Duo followed them inside, but bumped into Trowa, bouncing back with an indignant grunt.

“What the hell, man?” 

Rubbing his nose, he glanced around the ghosts, searching for the source of the distraction. 

Standing at the foot of the bed was a built young man, his hands shoved in his pockets as he studied the man asleep in the bed. He glanced up at the party, a predatory smile growing. 

“Well, well, what do we have here? Three lost lambs?” 

Heero and Trowa bristled as Quatre stepped forward. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” He asked firmly.

The man shrugged, dismissing his questions. “Nothing that concerns a few new turns. Leave the adults to work.” 

“Your business is finished here,” Duo stepped around Trowa, a slight frown on his face. 

The man’s eyes drifted from the spirits to Duo, sizing him up, then locked on the braid laying over his shoulder. “Well, well, if it isn't Maxwell’s Demon. To what do I owe the honor?” He bowed mockingly.

Duo tensed as he answered lightly. “This is my mark. And you are?”

“Roberts, I'm the local shinigami, though I'm a few pay grades below you.” He waved to the slumbering man. “You'll have to excuse me; I was just about to handle my job. There seems to have been some mistake to send you. I'll take care of things from here.”

Duo’s frown deepened, his anger rising as the stubborn shinigami brushed him off. He had come too far to let an upstart prevent him from getting answers. 

“Then we have a problem,” He answered lightly, shifting his stance.

Roberts shifted as well, squaring off against the reaper. “You can't intimidate me, hot shot. I'll take what is mine, whether you like it or not.”

Without warning, he flung his hand out, sending a wave towards the group. Duo whipped his hand to the side, shoving the startled ghosts out of the way and against the far wall. The attack passed over him, ruffling his hair and blowing his braid over his shoulder as he remained unmoved. 

He arched an eyebrow as he face shifted and a sharp grin bloomed across his face, his eyes darkening. It was a side of him he didn't often have to use, but there was a reason he was the one with the special set of wheels.

“You tried to take my souls,” He purred, tipping his head to the side. “That was rather rude of you, especially when we just met.” The temperature in the room began to drop as the two faced, shown only by the slight mist rising with each breath from the intended target as he slept.

Roberts paled but held his ground. “I'm not afraid of you.”

Duo’s grin stretched. “Then you are either very brave, or very, very stupid.”

A rustling drew the conflicting shinigami’s attention as the intended mark roused from sleep, a weak hand pulling on his blankets. A shiver rolled through the living being as he blinked at Roberts, then glanced at Duo and the remaining ghosts, still pinned against the wall. As he opened his mouth to speak, the room filled with a flurry of motion.

Roberts turned to a now fully awake Wufei, his hand raised with a triumphant expression. Before he could take a step, Duo raced across the room, slamming the larger shinigami into the wall of windows, gripping him by his throat. Frost began to spread across the glass from the pinned shinigami, outlining his profile.

“Get off me!” Roberts thrashed and kicked, searching for purchase as his feet dangled above the floor.

“You should have listened,” Duo breathed, singing the words to the struggling man.

“He's mine!” Roberts snarled, clawing at the arm holding him in place.

“I think it's time for you to leave.” Duo leaned forward, shoving his face into the other's space. “Poof.”

With a single breath, the intruding reaper disappeared, leaving as though pulled backwards through an invisible door. Only the delicate outline of frost marked his presence. Duo stepped back, closing his eyes as he dusted off his hands. 

“Well, that was exciting.” The reaper turned to the startled elder, a friendly grin replacing his earlier expression. “Hi! I’m Duo, your friendly neighborhood shinigami, here by special request.”

Wufei frowned at the braided reaper. “Are you the neighborhood watch or a special request? You cannot be both.”

Duo laughed and shook his head. “So particular. Alright, special request only. My expertise is usually not required in your neck of the woods.”

Wufei nodded and turned his attention to the three ghosts, moving from their unexpected tenure against the wall. 

“I thought for a moment I was going first, but it seems I will be the last,” Wufei commented when the others collected around his bed.

“You have the dubious honor of living the longest,” Trowa said with a smirk.

“What the hell was that?” Heero asked angrily, glaring at the sheepish shinigami.

“Competition?” He answered with a dismissive shrug. When his glare didn't let up, Duo sighed and scratched the back of his head, grabbing his braid to pull it over his shoulder.

“I'm sorry you had to see that; it was rather unprofessional to get into a squabble in front of current and future souls.”

“You call that a squabble?” Quatre said with an arched brow.

Duo tugged on his braid. “Look, it was a petty fight that shouldn't have happened, but regardless of his position, he should have backed off due to rank alone. Like he said, he was a few pay grades below me. He should have left.”

“Did you kill him?” Trowa asked bluntly.

Duo scoffed as he looked up with a jerk. “No, I just, sent him back for a while. He's not hurt or anything, except maybe his pride.”

“You're a shinigami?” Wufei wheezed, drawing everyone's attention.

Duo nodded then summoned his little black book, flipping to the relevant entry. 

“Looks like I owe you a drink, Yuy.”

Heero smirked at the old man. “One for each year of denial, my friend.”

Wufei chuckled painfully, wincing as he shifted on the pillows. “I was hoping your memory would fade with age. God knows mine has.”

Duo looked up from his readings, looking curiously at the living being. “It says here that you decided to remain with Preventers after the incident, though your position changed. Not that it really matters, but I'm curious as to why you stayed when everyone else bailed.”

  
“I had to seek justice for what they had done. Because of their failure, good, honest men died needlessly.” Wufei’s fierce scowl deepened the wrinkles on his face. “Everything I did from that point forward was to bring them to bear, to have them stand before the world and admit their guilt, to answer for their crimes.”

  
“And when it was all said and done, you left.” Duo filled in, his gaze never leaving the deep black eyes.

  
“I did what I set out to do, but it didn't ease my pain. It didn't bring any of them back.”

  
Duo nodded in understanding. “Was it worth it? To put yourself through that gauntlet?”

  
Wufei was silent as he weighted his answer. “It did not heal my wounds; my crusade kept them from closing. But if you are asking if my efforts to put them on trial, to see them convicted and made to pay for their transgressions, then yes, it was worth it.”

“We never thanked you for what you did,” Quatre grabbed Wufei’s hand gently, squeezing once as he smiled. “You did what we couldn't.”

Wufei tried to nod, but stopped with a wince. He moved to lean forward, prompting Heero to help him rise while the elder reached over his shoulder, freeing the obstruction. He pulled his rope of dark grey hair over his shoulder and laid back down with a sigh.

  
“You don't strike me as the long hair type, let alone a braid.” Duo commented as he flipped his own over his shoulder.

  
“I wear my hair like this to honor my lost brother.” Wufei breathed out, panting slightly from the exertion.

Duo looked thoughtful. “I assume it was during the incident with Preventers.”

Wufei nodded, his expression somber.

  
“That's... really kind of you. He must have meant a lot to you.”

  
“My one regret is that I never told him how much.” Wufei’s opened his eyes, locking his own with Duo’s as he spoke.

“I think it's about time to go,” Heero said softly, drawing their attention to the task at hand.

Duo dismissed his book and moved to the head of the bed, standing next to Heero. “Who would like to do the honors?”

“I will,” Quatre spoke up, nodding at Duo from across the bed. “Besides, I want to see how you loosen the pickle jar.”

“The what?” Wufei demanded as Trowa laughed loudly.

“You don't want to know,” Heero shook his head, though a playful smile quirked his lips.

“You guys are impossible,” Duo rolled his eyes, then reached out to Wufei, a single finger poised over his forehead. He hesitated for a moment, mentally bracing for the emotional hurricane, then tapped lightly on Wufei’s head.

  
_ Someone was calling his name. Even through the cries, he could hear them, their desperation and fear ringing clearly in their voice. He opened his mouth to answer, but his throat was dry and raw, and a raspy cough emerged instead.  _

_ The movement aggravated his wounds and brought the pain to the surface, leaving him breathless. They hurt way more now than they had before. Did he pass out? How much time had passed? The haze of the smoke and dust was still present, but it wasn't as thick as before. _

_ His name rang out again, now much closer. He turned his head as much as he could, enough to see a familiar figure emerge over a pile of rubble. _

_ Relief washed over the man's blurry face as he stumbled towards him. He practically threw himself next to where he lay, his expression a mix of relief and horror. He squinted as he tried to focus, unable to see the man clearly. He must had done something to his eyes. _

_ “Oh, god, stay with me. Just stay with me, you're gonna be okay.” _

_ He felt a strange calm wash over him as his soldier ripped his pack apart, pulling field bandages and compresses out and frantically applying them to his various wounds. He groaned as pressure was applied, holding them in place as his hands were manipulated for him. He barely had enough strength to hold them, let alone apply pressure. _

_ “Just keep them there, help is on the way.” _

_ He lolled his head towards the voice, watching the sweat drip down his face, leaving clean streaks through the layer of dust on his cheeks. Or maybe it was tears, but it couldn't be. His soldier didn't cry. _

_ The edges of his vision began to darken, and despite the man's pleas, he knew he was only delaying the inevitable.  _

_ Slowly, painfully, he reached a hand up, catching his soldier's attention. He gripped the appendage tightly, pulling it against his chest. He could feel the frantic beating of his heart, and smiled sadly up at him, his eyes welling with regret. _

_ “It's okay,” He whispered brokenly. “You'll be okay.” _

_ The man choked on a sob as he shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. “Stop it, you're going to be fine. There are rescue units on their way, you just have to hold on for them. Then we can get you to Sally and you'll be-” _

_ “Heero,” He breathed, his watery eyes clearing to focus on the devastated man. “You can't save me this time.” _

_ He shook his head frantically. “Don't say that, please.” He bit back another sob as the tears fell unchecked. _

_ “Promise, you won't follow me.” _

_ Heero leaned over him, sliding his free hand under his head to press their foreheads together. “Don't make me promise,” He whispered. “I can't live without you.” _

_ “You're not allowed to die until I take you. Until then, live.”  _

_ He closed his eyes as hot tears fell on his face, mixing with his own as they slid down his cheeks. “Promise me,” He breathed weakly. _

_ He felt Heero nod as he choked on his reply. “I promise.” _

_ With a final smile, Duo sighed and let go. _

 

Duo rushed out of the complex, aiming for a familiar tether as his mind raced. Once free of the winding halls, he scrubbed his hands over his face as he tried to sort through his raging emotions, his confusion and disbelief mixing in his chest. 

His visions weren't memories from his reaped souls, but his own, lost and forgotten in his time as a shinigami. 

By force of will alone, he stopped by the hood of his car and inhaled deeply, holding his breath to settle his thoughts, then exhaled slowly.

The reaper flicked his wrist, summoning his black book, and dropped it on the hood of the car. He then closed his eyes, reaching out his hand as though selecting a book from a shelf. He walked through the records in his mind, almost feeling the brush of the spines against his fingertips, searching for the records of the four souls that had upended his life.

Duo plucked each file as he found it, pulling them from thin air and tossing them next to his book. Finished, he arranged them on his makeshift table and poured over the files, searching for clues to his possible connection.

It was immediately clear they were connected. The four souls somehow managed to find each other in every previous life. Duo checked the reapers who had taken their souls previously, hoping to find his name within the records, but he came up empty.

The only thing he consistently noted was a recurring reference to a fifth soul. He closed his eyes and went back to his records, skimming the titles in hopes that the file would jump out at him. His searched stretched, and with it his frustrations. He couldn't find the file, and all references to the particular soul had been erased or redacted.

Duo leaned against the hood, looming over the files, nearly growling in frustration. He needed answers, and his search had turned up nothing. He clenched his fists as the only remaining option became clear, but that would mean facing the source of the problem, and he wasn't quite sure he was ready.

The emotional upheaval that accompanied the sight of that face had ripped Duo’s existence to shreds. Everything he thought he knew, about himself, about being a shinigami, about his view of human life, had been tossed into the blender and turned to the highest setting. Even his name had been thrown in, shedding new light on the mockery he had endured, revealing just how much everyone knew about him, while he knew nothing about himself. How was he supposed to deal with all this?

“Duo?”

The reaper tensed as he gasped sharply, his chest constricting painfully as his emotions stirred with a single word. He hunched further into himself, physically shying away from the one person who had caused his turmoil.

“I don't understand why I know you,” Duo said brokenly, staring with unseeing eyes at the records strewn across the hood. “I don't understand why I'm having visions about something I don't remember.”

He sensed movement behind him, a single step. Duo turned and looked over his shoulder, locking his eyes with Heero's, knowing he looked as lost as he felt. “Why do I know your face?” He whispered desperately.

Heero took another step, separating himself from the others. He held Duo’s eyes with a steady and patient gaze, his eyes warm and expression fond. He stretched his hand out, palm up, echoing Duo's offer to him, bridging the gap between them. 

“Let me show you.”

The reaper stared at the offered hand, torn between finding answers and simply sending them over and putting this all behind him. He glanced up at Heero, struck by the open and earnest expression on his face. His eyes begged him to trust him.

Duo inhaled deeply, then reached his hand out, laying his shaking fingers in Heero's waiting palm.

Everything around Duo shifted as the building and ghosts disappeared, an apartment loft taking its place. 

“So that's it? We’re official?” Duo stood in the middle of the room, facing a shirtless Heero, his arms crossed over his chest.

Heero grunted, a smirk on his face.

Duo threw his head back and laughed, his joy bubbling up and lighting his face. “That's the best sound I've ever heard.”

“I can think of something better.”

Duo watched as Heero's expression shifted, his happiness taking on a smoldering edge as his eyes wracked over Duo’s body. He matched it with a coy look of his own, tilting his head and looking up through his lashes in the way he knew drove Heero crazy.

“Oh really?” He purred. “And what would that be?”

He took a step back as Heero approached, reveling in the way his intense stare sent fire racing through his body.

“Something that requires great skill to extract,” Heero growled as he stalked the braided man across the room.

A surge of desire swept through Duo as his back connected with the closed door to the bedroom. He curled his hand around the knob as Heero loomed over him, trapping him with thick arms on either side of his head.

“You'll have to show me these skills,” Duo whispered as he bit his lip, teasing the normally stoic man.

“Good thing I'm a master.”

Any reply Duo had was lost as Heero leaned his full weight against the smaller man, pinning him to the door as he captured his lips.

The scene shifted, walls and furniture blurring and swirling until they settled into a large, marble building, lined with gleaming glass doors.

Duo walked through the front behind Heero and Trowa. As they approached the security checkpoint, Heero reminded Trowa to clear his pockets, already emptying his own as he spoke. Duo reached for his own assortment of knives, but stopped when he noticed not only what Trowa was unloading, but just  _ how much _ he was unpacking. He even took off his shoe to empty a handful of bullets onto the floor.

“Holy shit, dude!” Duo exclaimed, his own knives hanging loosely in his grip.

The security guard on duty watched with growing horror as the collection grew, his hand hovering just above the alarm. Heero rolled his eyes and proceeded through the metal detector, passing through without incident.

Trowa collected his weaponry and dumped them in the bin. Just before he stepped through, he shrugged casually at the stunned guard. “I may have went a little heavy in the arms department.”

Duo’s cackles echoed through the hall.***

The scene shifted again, settling on a cozy living room with matching chairs and sofa, each currently occupied with members of the now familiar group. 

“I'm telling ya, Fei, free running is a legitimate form of getting around, just as much as walking or running. It's just more physically challenging.”

“Calling it something other than what it is does not make it better.” Wufei sniffed, taking a sip of his tea.

“Free running, parkour, whatever. It doesn't change my argument.” Duo rolled his eyes.

“Only you would call jumping off of buildings ‘physically challenging’.” Wufei mocked with actual air quotes, causing Trowa to snort into his tea.

Unperturbed, Duo waved at the taller man, who was wiping said tea off his shirt. “You seem to have forgotten the clown in the room who does it for a living.”

“I prefer the term acrobat,” Trowa deadpanned.

Duo nodded as though his response answered all his questions and crossed his arms smugly. 

“Oh no, those who do it for a living and those who do it because they are slightly suicidal are two different things,” Wufei argued, shaking his head vigorously. 

Duo pouted and slouched backward over the armrest of the couch, turning his head to Heero.

“Ro~!” Duo pouted dramatically, swaying side to side as the blood rushed to his head. “Tell him I'm not suicidal.”

Heero spared a glance at the upside down man, then returned his attention to the chess board. Quatre waited patiently as he contemplated his next move.

“You're not suicidal,” He finally answered, moving his piece on the board. 

Wufei scoffed loudly as Duo pulled himself up and blew him a raspberry.

“You are, however, slightly insane.”

Duo squawked in indignation as Wufei laughed in his face.****

The living room faded to a dark and crowded nightclub, music pounding as bodies danced and writhed with the heavy bass. Duo nodded his head to the beat as he grinned at the clearly tense blonde standing across him at their table.

“Is this really necessary?” Quatre asked again, fidgeting with the napkin pinned under his drink.

Heero sipped his beer calmly as Trowa smirked at his discomfort. Duo matched his expression and leaned over the table.

“You asked me to teach you to dance. This,” He threw his hands out around him. “Is the best place to do it.”

“Remind me, again, why we have to do this in a  _ nightclub _ ?” Quatre hissed with growing discomfort.

Duo's grin stretched as the song ended and a new one started up. He grabbed the reluctant man and pulled him away from the table, ignoring the desperate looks he tossed at the remaining pair. He grabbed Quatre’s shoulders, stopping him just outside the writhing mass, keeping them away from the press of bodies and in line of sight of the others.

“Just follow my lead,” Duo said loudly over the intro. “One full song, then I'll leave you be.”

As Quatre opened his mouth to respond, heavy guitars joined the beat, causing the mass and Duo to jump in place, his eyes closed as he let the music take over.

Quatre nodded his head in time, trying to relax, until the opening lyrics blasted through the room.

_ Fuck this, what do you want from me? _

_ Run your monopoly _ __   
_ I am the opposite God forbid I could be _ __   
_ Living antithesis _ _   
_ __ Revel in this resist

_ Maybe you get the gist venomous _ __   
_ Standing in line is the way that you go _ __   
_ I will survive on the path that I chose _ __   
_ Sever the ties from the blind and all those _ _   
_ __ Ignorant bastards I am in control*^

Duo's laughter floated above the angry lyrics as Quatre fled to the table.

“Next time I'm staying home with Wufei!”

The dark club suddenly twisted, overlapping with the quiet living room, then the marble hall and the loft apartment until twisted elements of each location clashed and fought for dominance. Debris began to rain down around him as dull rumble began to grow. Cracks began to appear in the walls and ceiling, snaking across the floor, until all he could hear was a deafening roar accented by the sounds of the walls collapsing.

Duo ripped his hand from Heero's and stumbled backwards, reaching for his head as memories assaulted him. Flashes of faces, love, battles, hunger, quiet moments, hopelessness, laughter, raging arguments all mixed and pounded against his skull. He fell to his knees and squeezed his eyes shut as he fought to control the flow of emotions and images racing through his mind.

“Duo-”

“Stop!” The shinigami screamed, hunching over as far as he could. “Stop it!”

Heero knelt before him, his hands hovering over his shoulders. “Duo, what can I do?” His face tightened with pain as Duo rocked in place, shaking his head. “Duo,  _ please _ .”

Duo gasped for air as he fought to stem the tide, focusing on the familiar sound of Heero's voice. 

As the images swirled, one memory floated to the surface, leaving him cold as the pieces fell into place.

Slowly, he looked up into Heero's eyes, reading the concern written in every line of his face. When had he become so expressive? Did he finally allow himself some freedom to feel after he…

“I died,” Duo breathed, the words loud in the heavy silence. The storm in his head stilled as the echoes of his words faded.

Heero’s face twisted with pain as he nodded, unable to form the words even after all this time.

“How?”

The young man laid a gentle hand on his face, wiping away the tears that had slipped down the reaper’s cheek. “It was supposed to be a bomb disposal mission. Your team was to disarm the ordinance after another isolated the area.”

Duo shook his head slowly, his final memories rising to the surface.

_ “Is everything in place?” Duo pressed the earpiece firmly, glaring at the ground as he listened for a response through the static. _

_ “Affirmative, -ir. The ar- is sec-” _

_ Duo’s frown deepened as the static overtook the line. He halved the volume before it blew out his ear drum and turned to his team.  _

_ “Alright, I don't like this shit one bit, but we have confirmation of a mission complete by the containment team. Tighten your belts and tie your shoes; we’re moving out.” _

_ “But sir,” Chambers glanced around the gathered team, continuing when a few others nodded. “This radio static isn't right. There was nothing in the mission brief about potential communication disruptions. It could mean we’re missing vital intelligence about a potential active threat.” _

_ Duo’s scowl grew and he nodded in agreement. “Like I said, I don't like it either. This is looking more and more like a shit show, and there's nothing we can do about it except try to do our jobs.” He peered around at his team, meeting each set of eyes as he searched for any hesitation. “All we can do is stay alert and be ready to think on our feet. If anyone wants out, now’s your chance to say it.” _

_ Duo waited for any takers, but no one said a word. He felt a surge of pride for his team, and grinned at their fearless faces. “Alright, let's finish this and go home.” _

_ He led his team into the building, following the route laid out in the mission brief. If all went according to plan, they would meet the containment unit at the halfway point, taking over command and suiting up for their part of the disarming.  _

_ As they approached the meeting point, he could hear the echo of voices down the hall, indicating the team had already reached the rendezvous point. Duo frowned again, unease gathering like a stone in his gut. His team should have been the first to arrive. Something was wrong. _

_ They rounded the corner and met the small squad. Their commander stepped through the ranks, meeting Duo and shaking his hand. _

_ “Jamison, you're back early,” Duo jerked his chin toward the hall that led to the ordinance. “Status?” _

_ The taller commander shook his head, tension rolling off him in waves. “The mission briefing is skewed. This thing is the same model in the report, but the size and estimated containment is much smaller than anticipated. Hell, the thing doesn't even look like it's hooked up.” _

_ The stone grew as Duo’s confusion mounted. “What do you mean? This thing is supposed to be on a timer. And now you're saying it's just a dummy?” _

_ “All the components are there, and from afar it looks active, but anyone with a trained eye can tell otherwise.” Jamison rolled his shoulders, shifting uneasily. “Something ain't right.” _

_ Duo wracked his brain as he thought back through the mission specs, reviewing the information they had been given about the bomb. Something about Jamison’s words had tweaked a memory, hinting toward a vital clue Duo may have missed. _

_ The pieces suddenly clicked into place, and he felt the blood drain from his face as cold realization gripped him. _

_ “It's a trap…” _

_ Jamison frowned at his words. “What?” _

_ Duo leapt into action, turning to where his team had been watching the exchange. “We need to get out, NOW!” _

_ They immediately turned without question and raced back down the hall, Jamison’s unit keeping pace. _

_ “What is it?” Jamison panted beside Duo. _

_ The young man gritted his teeth, willing his men to run faster. “The timer was a ploy to get us in. The bomb is set on a trigger, meant to start a countdown when anyone enters its field of detection.” He saw the commander pale from the corner of his eye and pressed on harder, begging any deity that would listen to let them out in time. _

_ The building suddenly lurched as a deafening roar echoed around them, knocking them off their feet. _

_ Duo watched with fear and rage as his world crumbled around him, his eyes fixed on the exit just beyond his reach. _

_ ‘I'm sorry, Heero.’ _

Duo pressed his hand against Heero's, holding it against his cheek as tears streamed down his face. “I'm sorry. Heero, I'm so sor-”

Heero pulled him against his chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly as the smaller man sobbed into his shirt. “It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself.”

“But if I had realized sooner, if I had just listened to my gut earlier,” Duo cried, shaking his head against the fabric. 

Heero pulled him tighter, shushing him as he buried his face in Duo's neck. “It's not your fault,” He repeated again and again, rocking slightly as the smaller man slumped against him.

Duo eventually quieted, but he didn't move from the shelter of Heero's arms, instead gripping his shirt lightly with both hands. “I should have never left you,” He croaked, suddenly exhausted. 

Heero shook his head, stroking Duo's braid slowly. “I would have followed you if you hadn't made me promise.”

Duo jerked back to look in his eyes, his own wide. The thought of Heero committing suicide to be with him sent a spike of fear through him, even though he obviously hadn't gone through with it.

The ghost smiled fondly down at him, cupping his face with both hands. “You made me swear to you that I wouldn't die until you came for me. So I did.”

Duo swallowed thickly at the depth of Heero's devotion. “That's why you made the pact.”

Heero nodded. “I knew you would find me. You claimed to be Shinigami in life; I knew you would become one in death too.”

Duo chuckled weakly at the absurdity, just how much Heero believed in his words. “I can't believe you. What if shinigami didn't exist? You had no way of knowing you would be right.”

“I had to be. I made a promise.” Heero answered simply.

Duo felt his heart swell with his words, unable to look away from the man who stole his heart. “You're such a sap.”

Heero leaned forward slowly, whispering softly against Duo's lips. “I waited a lifetime for you.”

Duo smiled and closed his eyes. “So did I.”

The kiss was everything they had waited for and more, and Duo couldn't help but sigh as he felt every nuance of emotion Heero sent, echoing his own. They parted slowly, resting their foreheads together as they simply existed in each other's presence.

“You guys are so gross,” Wufei snorted, shattering the heavy atmosphere. 

Duo opened his eyes and leaned back with a grin as Heero glared over his shoulder. His grin widened as he took in the sight of the new ghost, standing proud and strong just as Duo remembered. His dark eyes were bright and clear, and his equally dark hair was laying loose around his shoulders, softening his normally severe expression. He was wearing a dark tank top and his signature billowing white pants. 

“Shut it, Fei. You're just jealous.”

Wufei scoffed and crossed his arms, but he couldn't hide the slight smile on his face. “In your dreams, Maxwell.”

Quatre smiled brightly and ran to the kneeling couple, throwing his arms around the shinigami. “It's so good to have you back. You have been sorely missed.”

Duo returned the hug, watching over Quatre’s shoulder as Trowa approached, his own fond smile in place.

“No one else laughed at my jokes,” He said with a shrug. 

Duo gasped in mock horror as Quatre giggled in his arms. “What a truly hellish life you must of had. It's a good thing I came along when I did.”

Trowa’s smirk grew and he ruffled Duo's hair fondly. “There was always something missing without you.”

Heero rose and stepped back, giving the others space to reunite with their missing brother. Duo stood and pulled a clingy Quatre with him, his laughter filling the void they all had felt since his passing.

“I can't believe you pulled all your support from Preventers,” Duo said, shaking his head. “What happened?”

Quatre sobered, looking past Duo to where Wufei and Heero stood watching. “Heero was the first to realize the intel was wrong, but by the time we figured it out, you had already gone in to disarm the bomb.”

Duo stared at the ground as he remembered that day. “Everyone knew something was wrong, and we went in anyway. I should have told them to wait.”

“You couldn't have known the timer was a dummy,” Wufei spoke up, stepping closer to the group. “You made the right choice by acting on the information provided.” His eyes softened when Duo grimaced with disbelief. “You did nothing wrong.”

“But people died!” He blurted in earnest, searching Wufei’s face. “I died!”

He nodded. “More people would have died if you hadn't acted. You managed to save most of your men and half of Jamison’s team.”

Duo’s eyes widened. “Jamison?”

Wufei shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

Duo wilted at the news. “You stayed with Preventers,” He stated softly.

“I dedicated my service to finding those responsible and bringing them to justice.” Wufei scowled and crossed his arms roughly. “It took far longer than I liked, seeing as I did it alone,” He said pointedly, glaring at Heero.

The young man glared back. “Did you honestly expect me to keep working for them after that?”

“I expected you to help me get answers for their crimes!”

“Your method was taking too long. I handled their retribution myself.” Heero growled.

“And look where it landed you. Dishonorably discharged with no way to make them pay.” Wufei sneered. “A waste of time and energy.”

“I did what I had to!”

“You had no patience!”

“Gentlemen, I believe the point is moot.” Trowa interrupted, glancing between them. “In the end, those who wronged us were made to answer, and they still got punched in the face, as they deserved. Win win for all.”

Duo stared in disbelief at Trowa, then turned his attention to a sullen Heero. “You seriously punched someone in the face for me?”

Heero shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “I only managed to hit a few of them.”

Duo's eyes widened as Quatre clarified. “He’s lucky that's all that happened. He attacked them during an investigation hearing when they claimed they had no knowledge of the faulty intel.”

The reaper shook his head, chuckling to himself. “The mental image…” He cocked his head at Trowa. “So what's your story?”

“Someone had to keep tabs on their activities.” He answered easily. “Wufei was too busy tracking your killers, so I followed Preventers many other ventures.”

Duo turned to each of them in turn, studying their faces, committing them to memory. Here was the family he had finally found; by a cruel twist of fate, it was he who had been lost. His chest constricted as the weight of his lost life came crashing down. So much time wasted, moments lost, memories unmade.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Duo swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I wish I could have been there. I've lost so much time…”

“We will make time,” Quatre nodded firmly. “Our time together does not start and end here.”

“There is no point in dwelling on the past,” Wufei added with his own nod. “It is time to move forward.”

“You're not going anywhere without us,” Trowa said with a small grin. “But we promise to give you alone time with Heero.”

Duo chuckled as Heero scoffed and tossed his own retort. “It goes both ways, Barton. Don't drag us into your spit exchange with Quatre.”

Duo laughed loudly while Quatre sputtered, his cheeks darkening quickly. 

“You're all disgusting and I don't know why I put up with you.” Wufei stated flatly.

Duo smiled and closed his eyes as the sound of his friends, brothers, and lover washed over him, giving his soul the peace he never knew it needed. He felt whole, right, and content. This was what he had never known was missing, and yet now that he had it, he couldn't see how it wasn't obvious.

Now everything was right.

He opened his eyes slowly, locking with Heero's calm stare. The shinigami gave him a small smile, full of the peace he finally felt.

It was time.

Trowa wrapped an arm around Quatre as Wufei stepped fully into the circle, completing their group. Duo looked to each of them, and they nodded to him in turn.

Lastly, he turned to Heero, waiting for his assurance.

“I'm ready,” He said, threading his fingers through Duo's.

The shinigami smiled and nodded, squeezing the hand firmly.

“Yeah, it's time to go.”

He closed his eyes as he began to glow, a gentle smile gracing his features. The aura grew to consume the others, bathing them in the peaceful light.

“Let's go home.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> * Death rides on a pale horse. Inspiration also pulled from Supernatural, but I prefer the idea of a Mustang simply for the pun and parallels.
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> ** The mountains of China, in the Jiangxi and Anhui provinces.
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> *** Scene courtesy of the lovely @the-notorious-bhg on tumblr, BHG on Ao3. Go read her fics. Don't question me, just do it.
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> **** Salvage by GoodIdeaAtTheTime, Chapter 4  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/8175788/chapters/19545418   
> If you're a fan of 2x5, Duo, or Wufei, go read this fic. Seriously, it's fantastic. It's a work in progress, but each chapter is so worth the wait.
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> 
> *^ “Anti-Everything” by DED. I've been obsessed with this song since I first heard it, and every time I hear it, I think of Duo. Which is partially BHG’s fault for her rapping Duo. I've always viewed him as lover of rock music, and this is the perfect mix.


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